


chance and apathy

by orphan_account



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Linear Enough, Canon Compliant, Confessions, First Kiss, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Not Strictly Linear, Pining, you know me, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-06 23:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15205886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Art, they call him. Hongbin's been calledart.It's a title he wears that gives him a right to be here, betrays him as talentless but beautiful, eponymous as theBirth of Venusor theCreation of Adam.He's not Ken or Leo or Ravi. He's Hongbin. He's here to stand still and be admired. David. Apollo, forever frozen behind Daphne.In their dance studio, Hakyeon logs hour after hour of practice, finessing every line of himself until he's as close to perfect as Hakyeon can be, and closer than anyone else. Hongbin's beingcalledart, but Hakyeonmakeshimself art in the face ofyou're here to dance.Hongbin watches the graceful sweep of Hakyeon's wrist and says to his own passive loveliness,You must evolve or be left behind.Five times Hakyeon leaves Hongbin behind, and one time he stays.





	chance and apathy

**Author's Note:**

> [sighs deeply] [pounds shot] come get yall juice
> 
> if you recognize a bit of this, it’s because i uploaded it somewhere else before deciding i wanted it to be part of a bigger story ^^ the prompt was "you are being faced with two choices: evolve or repeat."

Art, they call him. Hongbin's been called _art._ It's a title he wears that gives him a right to be here, betrays him as talentless but beautiful, eponymous as the _Birth of Venus_ or the _Creation of Adam_. He's not Ken or Leo or Ravi. He's Hongbin. He's here to stand still and be admired. David. Apollo, forever frozen behind Daphne.

In their dance studio, Hakyeon logs hour after hour of practice, finessing every line of himself until he's as close to perfect as Hakyeon can be, and closer than anyone else. Hongbin's being _called_ art, but Hakyeon _makes_ himself art in the face of _you're here to dance._

Hongbin watches the graceful sweep of Hakyeon's wrist and says to his own passive loveliness, _You must evolve or be left behind._

***

"Hyung," Hongbin begins, taking a seat at the al fresco table next to Hakyeon, nursing an oncoming brain freeze. Hakyeon glances at his watch and runs a fretful hand over Hongbin's hair. Hongbin scoffs and bats him away, sorbet dripping forlornly onto his fingers as he turns his attention away for a split second. "Ugh, _ew_ ," he interrupts himself, casting a shifty glance around to see if he could possibly get away with licking the mess off.

"Don't," Hakyeon warns, sensing Hongbin's train of impulsive thought. He plucks a wet wipe from some unknowable depth of his pocket and slides it pointedly in Hongbin's direction. "You're in public."

"Yeah, about that, hyung," Hongbin remembers, setting down his sticky spoon long enough to remedy the soon-to-be-sticky situation on his left hand. " _Why_ am I here, in public, with you, when there's an event on?"

He doesn't look up at Hakyeon, but he's sure he's currently positioned at the pointy end of a Level 2 Withering Glance. (It's a scale of 1 to 5, devised by one Han Sanghyuk and later refined by Taekwoon.) He's busy passing the lemon-scented paper between his fingers in an attempt to _not_ end up smelling like rotten blueberries.

Hakyeon checks the time again. "To be a wet blanket," he mock-confesses primly. "Just eat your ice cream and keep doing what you're doing."

"Whoever you're hoping I'll scare off would _probably_ be a lot more disgusted if I just _licked_ my fingers," Hongbin grumbles. He gamely takes another bite of his shaved ice, though, and waits for Hakyeon to grace him with a proper explanation. Hakyeon steals two blueberries and one slice of strawberry from Hongbin's takeaway bowl before he speaks.

"I'm meeting Taeyong to discuss a—design collaboration." Hongbin opens his mouth, full of partially-masticated fruit and ice, but Hakyeon cuts him off. "Yes, Hongbin, I _know_ it's boring. You've said." He pilfers another blueberry. Hongbin notes that he licks his fingertips clean, if only to hold it over his unreasonably well-mannered head later. "Taeyong-hyung's gotten a little...obsessed with me lately. You're here so he's not—doesn't—" Hakyeon's voice dies in his throat, and Hongbin nudges him roughly with an elbow.

"Can't be a date if I'm here," Hongbin says bracingly, and swirls his little plastic spoon around until he's wrangled a raspberry and a few slivers of chocolate. "Here, hyung." Hongbin offers the spoonful, placid, and Hakyeon leans in to take the bite. He settles back into his seat and makes to check the time again, but his eye catches on a flash of gaudy pink in the bustling crowd along the street.

"You saw him coming," Hakyeon accuses under his breath, and Hongbin nudges him again and bites harshly at his lip against the brimming smile.

Hakyeon's designer friend takes a seat across from Hakyeon, who's slipped into his professional skin like an expensive chameleon. Hongbin stops eating long enough to smile his Idol Smile at Taeyong when Hakyeon introduces _my friend and dongsaeng Lee Hongbin_. Taeyong's eyes pull away from Hakyeon to linger uncomfortably on Hongbin's jawline, his cheekbones, an appraising glance that sets something off-kilter high in Hongbin's stomach.

He turns his full focus back to the food Hakyeon had plied him with to get him to agree to this outing in the first place. Hakyeon and Taeyong say things about schedules and venues and pricing, and Hakyeon's hand clutches viselike at Hongbin's knee under the table. Hongbin prizes his fingers gently up, one by one, to avoid Hakyeon-fingernail marks, but gives Hakyeon his hand to hold instead.

Hongbin's shaved ice has gotten all melty and miserable by the time Hakyeon wraps things up with a, "Thank you for meeting me, hyung," followed by his standard repertoire of _we'd better be going, I'm sure you're busy_ , but it goes awry somewhere between Hakyeon's bashful apology for keeping Taeyong so long and the part where they actually _get up and leave_.

"If your afternoon is free, I have a few rough design sketches back at the warehouse we could run through," Taeyong suggests affably, and Hongbin's spoon clatters into his empty bowl, plastic against waxy cardboard.

" _Hyung_ ," he laments, injecting every bit of whiny dongsaeng he can muster, which involves enough of channeling Jaehwan that Hakyeon probably owes him another favor. "You said we'd be back in time for me to meet Chansik and Jungkook. You _said_." Hakyeon's eyebrows draw into the model-understanding-hyung position and he tips his head, intending no doubt to concede the point and make his blustery exit.

He's thwarted once again. "Surely Hongbin-ah can make his own way home while we discuss business?" And who _is_ this man, to get so familiar with Hongbin, to run roughshod over what Hakyeon's saying in text and subtext, who _is_ this man? Hongbin will grab Hakyeon by the waist and fireman-carry him home, he'll hold Hakyeon's _hand_ in _public_ and walk him back to the dorm, he'll—

"Of course," Hakyeon acquiesces, and his hand tightens on Hongbin's before slipping away. "'Bin-ah, tell Chansikkie I haven't seen him in too long. I'll be home late."

Taeyong doesn't know Hakyeon well enough to see the set to his jaw, but Hongbin knows Hakyeon, knows _it_ like the tension in his chest when they'd looked him up and down and said _You're good-looking, but you don't sing very well, do you?_ , like the tremor in Hakyeon's limbs during what was very nearly their final group meeting.

It's all he can think about as he calls a taxi, and all he can picture until he hears Jungkook's voice in his headset, asking, "God, hyung, fuck have you been?"

"Out with Hakyeon-hyung," he says in purposeful non-answer, and immerses himself in the game.

***

"There's no one here," Hongbin announces loudly to the empty dorm. Hakyeon, lugging a considerably larger and heavier suitcase, stuffed to bursting with clothing and souvenirs, grunts his way up the stairs behind Hongbin. "There's no one here."

Hakyeon is breathing hard by the time he catches up to Hongbin, standing in the doorway, and shoves himself and his overfull luggage past, bustling in with no concessions to grace or decorum. His shoes go flying into the wall with a dull _thud-thud_.

"It's...what, two p.m.? Everyone's out _doing things_ ," Hakyeon explains with the air of a hyung who thinks he's telling Hongbin something life-changing. Hongbin doesn't call him out on it, since they do both seem to be stating the obvious at the moment.

Hongbin blames the trip. They've spent too much of their recent time looking anywhere but at cameras and pointing out conspicuous details; it's become a force of slightly obnoxious habit. "No planes for—at least a week," Hakyeon declares, sinking onto the living room couch with a groan, his luggage abandoned in an untidy pile next to his bedroom door.

Hongbin, now that he's not in constant motion, is nearly bowled over by sheer exhaustion. He wrenches his own shoes off and leaves his suitcase as an obstacle for the next unlucky member to enter the dorm. "No _leaving the house_ for at least a week," Hongbin grumbles, staggering over to collapse sprawled on top of Hakyeon, who aims a baleful glare down at him. It's weakened by his arms banding securely around Hongbin's waist, part keeping Hongbin from flailing his way off the couch, but part his own handsy self-indulgence. Hongbin allows it. Hakyeon smells like hotel shampoo and he's a surprisingly comfortable body pillow despite his long-limbed dancer's build.

"You have to leave," Hakyeon counters. "You have schedules."

"Hyung, stop talking." Hongbin finds Hakyeon's shoulder with his cheek and lays his head down, wriggling around until he's as thoroughly interlocked with Hakyeon as he can be. No knobbly Hakyeon-joints will harshen the coziness of Hongbin's imminent nap. "You've talked for days and days. Time to be quiet."

If he could see Hakyeon's face, Hongbin imagines it would be equal parts reproachful and fond. He's been on the receiving end of that particular expression often enough that he doesn't really feel the _need_ to see it, though, and Hakyeon's arms tighten around him anyway, so it's entirely moot. A pair of willowy legs tangle with Hongbin's, drawing out a content hum into the warmth of Hakyeon's neck. "Mmm...sleep," Hongbin observes, maybe orders, and Hakyeon laughs quietly and says, "Okay, Hongbinnie," and then everything goes hazy and muted and still.

Hongbin's feeble nap dreams are steeped in the scent of hotel toiletries and the bite of Hakyeon's cologne, chasing out the ache of fatigue with the familiarity of Hakyeon's body so close to his. They quickly fade to something bizarre—Wonshik is there, and Hanzo is there, and Wonshik is _blushing_ —and are broken too soon by the chirpy BOL4 tune that is Hakyeon's ringtone.

Hongbin stirs awake completely against his own will to hear Hakyeon _umm_ ing and _ahh_ ing into the phone, mixing it up with the occasional soft laughter.

"Of course...in an hour," he concludes. "I'll meet you." Then, lower, confidential, almost intimate, "Yes, I missed you, too. I'll see you soon." Hongbin hurriedly closes his eyes and tries to look like he's still in the throes of his Wonshik-Hanzo dating sim nightmare. Hakyeon's phone clatters onto the coffee table and he hugs Hongbin closer with his whole body, winding himself around Hongbin, holding onto the way they fit together the best way he knows how.

Awareness that it's coming doesn't make it any less gut-wrenching when Hakyeon jostles him gently and whispers, "Wake up, Hongbinnie. Time to go to your bed." Hongbin's bleariness is feigned, for the most part, but his confusion isn't, and he makes vague mutinous rumbles as Hakyeon untangles them, herding Hongbin toward his own bedroom.

Once Hongbin has successfully tucked himself into bed, Hakyeon runs a fond hand over Hongbin's hair and lingers there for a moment before murmuring, "I'll be home later. I'm happy you went with me. Hyung loves you." Hongbin hears the click of his bedroom door and a series of crashes that signal Hakyeon's confrontation with Hongbin's obstructing luggage. The dorm is once again overwhelmed by silence.

Hongbin can't sleep, suddenly. He flips himself over. Flings off his covers. Flips over again. Sighs and resigns himself to uneasy wakefulness, gets up and goes in search of his computer.

Hakyeon has left Hongbin's laptop bag right outside his bedroom door.

***

Hakyeon is being sneaky.

This, in itself, doesn't give Hongbin much pause. Hakyeon is a sneaky one. He's yet to meet a game he can't cheat by pure force of will or a plate of food he can't pillage with a combination of innocent, bewildered looks and out-and-out guerrilla tactics.

So when Hongbin perceives Hakyeon being _sneaky_ , it's not so much the fact itself as the novelty of his methods; Hakyeon has been out of the dorm more often than not. Hakyeon's always had a fuller schedule than Hongbin, but he's usually _home_ in the sparse hours between his dawn-to-dusk commitments.

Something is wrong, then, or something is amiss, when Hongbin slinks out of his room at 3 a.m., hoping to catch Hakyeon at his perennial fruit thievery, but apprehends nothing except an untouched bowl of fresh-cut pineapple and a darkened living room.

Hakyeon isn't home yet.

Hongbin hugs the bowl to himself and leans against the kitchen counter, feeling strangely apathetic as he stuffs a few chunks into his mouth. The fruit is acidic and not as sweet as it would have been after bringing his wily hyung to justice by way of an impassioned lecture. He keeps at it nonetheless, because _damn it, Hakyeon, Hongbin cut all of this up for himself._

Sound of rustling outside the dorm entrance. Light spills in from the hallway to admit Hakyeon, who shuts the door behind him and scrubs a tired hand over his face. He's visibly distracted as he meanders slowly toward his bedroom, and he startles when he catches sight of Hongbin, eating pineapple, alone in the kitchen at 3 a.m.

"Hongbinnie," Hakyeon murmurs, changing course to crowd up next to Hongbin, reaching his bare fingers into the bowl to steal a bite. Hongbin's heart tenses behind his ribcage, and he tilts the bowl benevolently to give Hakyeon easier access. "What are you doing up? We have—" A yawn cuts him off. "—schedules tomorrow. Were you gaming?"

Hongbin runs through several possible answers in his head before he settles on, "I cut this up earlier." It isn't an answer at all, but it should _mean something_ to Hakyeon, because it's Hakyeon's _job_ to see through Hongbin, see through all of them. "It's three in the morning, hyung. You have schedules tomorrow, too."

"I was—Wongeun wanted to get coffee. Talk. Over coffee," Hakyeon corrects firmly. It's like that, then, and Hakyeon is making room in his life where none exists. He wouldn't do that for just anyone. Wongeun must be...special.

Hakyeon sags deeper against the counter, leaning his weight on Hongbin as he plucks up another chunk of pineapple. Hongbin weighs his next words with care as Hakyeon chews. "Hyung...you and Wongeun, are you...?" He lets it hang in the air, awake just between the two of them as the rest of the dorm lies still and sleeping.

Hakyeon swallows. The corners of his lips press in and down, and he takes a beat too long to answer, and Hongbin's heart skids to a halt before starting up again anxious and too-fast.

"Wongeunnie and I...no," Hakyeon whispers, a sigh following quick behind the confession, heavy with things Hakyeon isn't ready to talk about. "We're just friends."

Knowledge is perhaps worse than ignorance, because Hongbin can't think of anything to _say_ —consolation, he wonders, is consolation right, or avoidance, just _avoiding_ any further discussion, or—

"I'll see you in the morning, Hongbinnie," Hakyeon's soft voice cuts through Hongbin's alarm. "Try to sleep soon." He pushes off the counter and cups Hongbin's cheek in an affectionate hand before disappearing into his room.

Hongbin is left to turn over their conversation in his mind, wondering if a Hakyeon who comes home in quiet pain is truly better than a Hakyeon who remains content, but absent altogether.

***

They're in LA, so Hongbin wanders around under their manager's watchful eye, Polaroid camera in hand, taking low-angle shots of living statues in the balmy heat.

He stoops down next to a little square-foot garden, snaps a photo of blooming flowers so close to the expanse of concrete. Nearly turns to ask Hakyeon if he knows the name of the flowers—

But no, Hakyeon is off somewhere else, caught up in meetings in advance of their performance at the convention. He'd told Hongbin to go without him, enjoy the city, they never know when they'll be here again.

It's an odd empty feeling, though, to take in so many sights and sounds and frame pictures without Hakyeon in them, crossing his legs artfully and demanding Hongbin catch him in the right light. All his artsy tourist Polaroids come out—good, but just off-center, as if their photographer lacked a proper subject when, by all rights, his subject was the gold-painted woman, the little red flowers stubbornly soaking up the California sun. The fifty or so deliberately Instagrammable locations Hongbin's browsed. All of it without Hakyeon. He'd thought they were both, to a fault, creatures of nigh unbreakable habit.

When he spots a Starbucks, nestled as a beacon of familiarity between pricey clothing shops, Hongbin drops his camera to hang heavily around his neck and orders tea—the same tea he always gets—in careful English, with a few helpful gestures to smooth things along. He spreads the day's photos out on a wobbly wooden table and deems them _good enough_ ; they're all _pretty,_ just the hollow, impersonal pretty that permeates everything in this city.

He has no touchstones here, no "and there's where Taekwoon threw up a three-course meal after he tried to outdrink Jaehwan and then Wonshik carried him home," no "here's where I caught Sanghyuk crying on the phone to his mom." Hakyeon was meant to be Hongbin's touchstone in this harsh, sunny, pretty city, but heaven knows where Hakyeon is right now.

In the hotel, it turns out. Swathed in a fluffy white robe, in bed with a plate of grapes and his latest drama. He's sent a selfie to their group chat. It's reassuring in a strange way, that if he's not out with Hongbin, at least he hasn't taken it upon himself to do alone what they'd normally do together.

 _I'm at Starbucks_ , Hongbin texts, and, _This is the most pictures I've taken in a row without Hakyeon-hyung photobombing them._

A chorus of ㅋㅋㅋs and embarrassing Hakyeon stickers floods in, and Hongbin smiles into his cup. To his private conversation with Hakyeon, Hongbin sends, _It's not the same without you, hyung_.

He locks his phone before Hakyeon can respond, but Hakyeon greets him at the hotel with a long, shower-damp hug, and Hongbin soaks it up, determined as those empty-pretty flowers.

***

It's Toronto, now, or maybe Ottawa or even Vancouver, but it's somewhere in Canada that isn't as cold as Hongbin expected. Sanghyuk is in charge of their English greeting. Hongbin makes sure Taekwoon doesn't collapse in a hungover heap onstage and tries to be charming enough to vault over the language barrier.

He's sharing a hotel room with Hakyeon, who's currently in the process of applying all ten thousand of his skincare products. He's moved the office chair into the bathroom and taken up residence in front of the mirror. Hongbin hears his phone playing YouTube videos, their upbeat voices echoing off the bathroom tiles.

When Hakyeon emerges, he looks utterly horrifying. He's got on a sheet mask with some kind of animal print, but Hongbin can't discern whether it's a frog or a dragon, and either way it's horrific. He sinks into Hongbin's bed like he owns it, and Hongbin scoots obligingly over, piling up pillows behind Hakyeon so he can prop up his slimy face.

"Wonshik and Sanghyuk have officially left the hotel," Hongbin observes, showing his phone to Hakyeon, opening the message on Snapchat. "Sure you don't want to go drinking?"

Hakyeon makes a petulant noise high in his throat that Hongbin interprets as _I can't talk with this mask on_. Hongbin pats his t-shirted chest a few times in faux reassurance. "You're staying in," Hakyeon finally manages to mumble through unmoving lips. "So 'm staying in. We can—mm'morrow."

Hongbin snorts and fires up his laptop. He sets a timer for Hakyeon's sheet mask, because this is a routine they've done before, and waits until he's neck-deep in battle, his focus too occupied by enemy fire to consider every word he says.

"Hyung, I like—spending time with you," he grits out between kills. Hakyeon hums happily in agreement, kneading Hongbin's inner thigh in his strong grip. "I—" The timer counts down the final thirty seconds in Hakyeon's allotted mask-time, and Hongbin lets himself lose to angry beeping as the victory screen flashes. Hakyeon doesn't leave the bed, but peers expectantly up at Hongbin, awaiting the rest of his words.

Hongbin shakes his head. "This is taking a lot out of me, hyung, and I'd—" That animal print really is terrible. Hongbin hisses out a laugh between his teeth. "I'd appreciate it if you took off that _godawful_ mask."

With a little shrug, Hakyeon traipses off to the bathroom to finish his skincare ritual, and Hongbin closes his laptop and tells himself to _get it together, Lee Hongbin, it's Hakyeon, it's your dumb hyung Cha Hakyeon,_ which really doesn't do much to calm the antsy thudding of his heart.

It's not long at all before Hakyeon exits the bathroom, but Hongbin's hastily-constructed plans are dismantled by the office chair Hakyeon drags back into the hotel room proper, replacing it at the little desk next to the window. Hongbin takes a deep breath through his nose.

When Hakyeon bounces back onto Hongbin's bed with a, "Now, what did you want to say, Hongbinnie," Hongbin lurches forward to swallow up the last syllable with his lips against Hakyeon's. It's rushed and clumsy until Hongbin catches up with himself, fitting their mouths together with a shuddery breath.

"I like you," Hongbin stammers out when he pulls back. "I—"

Hakyeon's hand at the nape of Hongbin's neck drags him back in for another kiss, a proper _kiss_ , with Hakyeon's frantic lips and gentle needy whimpers breaking free of his throat. Hongbin's heart beats an overwrought tattoo against his ribs but he kisses Hakyeon back, parts his lips obediently when Hakyeon shifts closer, licks deeper into Hongbin's mouth.

It's silent in their room except for slick sounds and heavy breathing, and Hongbin's words all short-circuit when their lips finally part, and all he can say is, "I like you, please stay."

And Hakyeon laughs, a flurry of nervous noise as he studies his hands, presses his brow to Hongbin's. "I think I'd like nothing more," he breathes, catching Hongbin's lower lip between his own for a brief moment. "Thank you. Thank you."

They're kissing again, all at once, and it's late at night across the world and they're jetlagged and _someone_ is going to crawl into rehearsal hungover again, but Hakyeon is so lovely in the soft lamplight of their Canada hotel. The way his lips slip over Hongbin's and the harsh tug of his hand in Hongbin's hair.

It's lovely, it's lovely. They're lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought~
> 
> [twt](http://twitter.com/elysiyeon)
> 
> [tumblr](http://rapjoonhyung.tumblr.com)


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